Sitting On Pin Cushions
by I Spaz With Pizzazz
Summary: Who was to say mad wasn't actually sane? Oneshot.


**A/N: **A rant, pretty much. X3 I reread Alice In Wonderland a few nights ago and started writing Thursday in first period until third when I was content enough to quit… Moohaha, what an excellent way to look like you're diligently taking notes, but not paying attention at all. XD

Anyways, enjoy.

-disclaimer attack-

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Sitting On Pin Cushions

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Since Alice returned from the curious place of Wonderland, thoughts of that world had occuppied her mind. Her thoughts wandered, they strayed, and seldom did they come back when she called for them to. It was almost beginning to frighten her, because she had begun to question everything she'd grown up being told.

There was always a clear definition of what insane was…of what was mad and of what was not. Before, the girl never had any reason to doubt those definitions, but now…after all she'd been through in that strange dream…

Without meaning to, Alice was questioning if the people in Wonderland really were mad. The Cheshire Cat had wasted no time in telling her that all of them were crazy there, and spoke it like it was a _rule. _They had to be crazy, because that was simply what they were told. And it had become _normal _for them there.

Normal! Routine!

And she wondered, what if all the people in the world, all of them, from the world that was familiar to _her _too, were mad all the same. Perhaps they just didn't know it yet. Perhaps everything that they ever did was _backward. _Things were backward all day in Wonderland, but that was how they lived, so it seemed fine. They thought she was the crazy one there.

In all the fatigue, Alice was curious if the real world was the world that was insane.

As she sat sewing, she pondered. Staring intently, inquisitively, at the pin cushion, she glanced down at the soft chair cushion she sat on. How did she _know _she was sitting on the right one? How did _anyone _know, for that matter?

How was anybody to possibly say that their way was right? That anybody who didn't do exactly as _they _did had lost their mind?

Not every mind was the same. That she knew for certain. She'd learned that at school, and it was one of the only things she'd learned there that she could be entirely _sure _of.

But what about everything else?

Who was to say a pack of playing cards _couldn't _come alive and start waving executioner's axes at your head?

Who was to say a cat _couldn't _smile so widely and speak to you in such a haunting voice? And that it utterly _couldn't _disappear and reappear, and leave you with so many peculiar uncertainties in your brain?

Oh, and _who was to say _a pin cushion _wasn't _for sitting on? It would hurt, you say? How do you _know _what hurt is and what comfort is…?

Most of all, _who _was to _say _that a _dream _had absolutely _no _remote possibility of being real _somewhere _along the line…?

Because Alice certainly didn't know anymore. She didn't seem to know much of anything. Her brain was all in a mess lately. So tangled…

Or was it that it was coming _un_tangled? Unraveling things nobody had ever bothered to examine before?

Her whole life looked like an enigma now. All of it. A riddle like she was still at the Hatter's tea party. And she still couldn't find the answer, because there could be _so many _answers.

And the truth, she was feeling drawn to believe, was that nobody was truly mad or truly sane until they convinced themselves that they were.

Maybe she was mad.

Maybe she just preferred to live in that dream world, because at least there she _knew _she wouldn't be instantly shunned for having that wonderful, beautiful streak of 'insanity thinking'.

You know, insanity was much more welcoming the more she considered about it. Confusing, sure, but as the Cat said, "We're all mad here."

They would understand, they would understand her when she wondered. She wouldn't be shipped off to an asylum for talking about rabbits with pocket watches. And she wouldn't be mocked for considering _maybe _a dream could be a better world than here.

Why not?

The citizens of Wonderland had embraced that 'insanity'. Oh, and they'd been pleasant, mostly.

Why _not _be open like them?

Why not?

There was no reason she could see why not. And nobody who could really tell her a dream was impossible. She'd been there, she'd seen Wonderland. Who was to say she couldn't go back? And even if she never did, who was to say she couldn't _take something out of it _and bring it to this world?

Because she also knew that it was a lot more _interesting _to look at things from a mad point of view.


End file.
